


Don't Get Lost In Heaven

by UselessProtagonist



Category: Subarashiki Kono Sekai | The World Ends With You
Genre: Aftermath, Depression, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Emotional Vulnerability, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kinda, Loneliness, Phone Calls, Post-Game, Slow Burn, Teasing, Texting, because i made this for me but im glad if you also enjoy it, self-indulgence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2019-09-05 08:28:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16807075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UselessProtagonist/pseuds/UselessProtagonist
Summary: "Maybe Neku is only mentally screaming into the void, being swallowed up by the crowd's of Shibuya, or lost and swept up high above Pork City. He should accept that Joshua's not listening and not coming back..."As much as the world around him seems to be moving forward, Neku finds himself following at what feels like a much slower pace in the weeks after the Long Game.But it soon appears he's not the only one.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to write a twewy fic for over five years now and this is the product of that finally happening. Some of it I am definitely very proud of even if I feel like I have no idea what I'm doing.

It shouldn't be all that surprising to Neku how much time he spends with his friends now. Those first couple of days of constant hangouts and exchanged messages left him somewhat dazed. And despite how nice being able to connect after a week of distance after going through hell together, there was always that nagging suspicion their camaraderie wouldn't last.

And he was right, but not in the way he expected.

Over a month later and their meetups don't happen every day anymore. Now it's more of a once a week thing when they all have time to get together. It works just as well.

He spends most of his time with Shiki and Eri. Unfortunately, this also includes more fashion excursions than he is used to. With it comes a primal fear of Eri's passion and inspiration, especially since she considered him one of her muses. Both she and Shiki now know his measurements by heart, but he's sappy enough now that he can't help to find it a little endearing.

Beat and Rhyme live farther away, so the most he sees them is at the meet-ups. There'd only been once where Beat and he could hang out, just the two of them, for ramen at Ken Doi's. They talk about school and music and all those things that teenagers are supposed to. And Rhyme is... well, Rhyme. Still cheerful and optimistic as always. However, there had been little he'd learned about her personally in their short time spent during the Game.

The Game. That was a touchy subject both externally and internally.

For a time, that's was all he could think about. He would run the events over in his head frequently during those weeks. So much so, he wasn't sure anything he remembers was real. Sometimes he would wake in a cold sweat and the Game would feel like a nightmare he only remembered too well.

It took a gentle intervention from Shiki on behalf of her and everyone else that they were able to confide in each other about their experiences. It was the validation Neku needed after dwelling on it for so long.

Neku's feelings were real. Gaining his friends had been real. The change he'd had within himself was real.

He comes to suspect it when they don't ask him about how they had succeeded when they talk about the Game, that he's the only one who remembers how they'd gotten back.

“I don't really remember what happened after the fight,” Shiki told him when he'd asked, “I thought we won, but after... I don't know, I woke up in my room and I was alive.”

“Pretty much same for me, man,” Beat added in, “me n' Rhyme woke up 'nside our rooms too.”

The words are like a cold chill down his spine. He's not sure why he's surprised since he had already suspected from the moment he wasn't bombarded with questions and concerns, but he'd also hoped that was because his friends were waiting for him to express it himself. Apparently not.

He tries one more thing.

“Hey, did I ever introduce you to Joshua at all?”

He gets what he expected from Shiki, a puzzled look as she shakes her head. Beats response is much different as he looks to Shiki and then his gaze lingers on Neku and it's one of those looks where he can tell the blonde is trying to dig deep. Although his answer ends up being a brief “nah man.”

And that's that on that, Neku supposes, trying not to visibly deflate.

However, at the end of the day, he's surprised when Beat takes him aside with a hand of his shoulder, a look of real concern etched on his friend's features.

“Look Phones.” Beat says, but pauses, avoiding eye contact and rubbing the back of his neck. His nervous habits make Neku nervous and he has to stop from fidgeting himself.

“I just want ya to know,” he continues, “s'not your fault, y'know. So don't go beatin' yourself up 'bout it.”

“What are you talking about?” Neku blurts because at this point he is thoroughly confused.

“About that prissy kid you was with. Joshua,” Beat says, “I don't want ya blamin' yourself 'bout him.”

Oh. Neku's mind struggles to compute. _Oh._

“Oh...” he says out loud, rather unhelpfully,” Yeah, thanks, I'm not – I just –”

“S'okay man, I get it,” Beat says with a reassuring pat on the back. And Neku doesn't have the heart to tell him that, no, he really doesn't. That he's mistaking Neku's loss for words for emotional pain rather than the inability to fully comprehend having this conversation.

But, “Thanks, Beat,” is what he concedes to. It's easier than the alternative.

He supposes he should find it rather comforting that he's not the only one who still has some semblance that Joshua was a real entity.

So then why does he feel so angry?

  
  


Neku tells himself he shouldn't concern himself with Joshua. Shiki and Rhyme have no memory of him and Beat thinks he was erased. And WildKat hasn't been open since Neku came back. Although Mr. H's presence would have caused a whole other cascade of questions he may or may not want the answers to. It still would have been something.

But as it stands, Neku is alone in the knowledge that Joshua is the Composer and the reason they are back.

_Same streets, same crowds too. Yeah, Shibuya hasn’t changed a bit._

_But still, I don’t think I can forgive you yet. You don’t see it, but... those few weeks were very hard for me. Learning to trust people, having that trust broken... Finding out the town I pegged as small and stifling, and empty... wasn’t any of those things._

_"Trust your partner." And I do._

_I can’t forgive you...but I trust you. You took care of things, right? Otherwise, Shibuya would be gone... and my world with it._

_Hey, did I mention? I’ve got friends now! We’re getting together for the first time in a week!_

_See you there...?_

Neku never speaks the words. He speaks them into thin air in his mind, sometimes imagining he's hooked up to an amplifier because maybe then they'll reach out far enough.

They weren't always that eloquent, however. Or kind –

_So you're dead again, is that it? What about me? Why do I get to remember?_

_Dammit... Say something. I know you can hear me, you asshole!_

– but Neku wasn't about to sugarcoat his frustration.

No matter how he might want to ignore it, the thought of Joshua having forgotten him or ignoring him was painful. That what had impacted Neku and his friend's so thoroughly was less than a blip on the Composer's radar made Neku's stomach twist. Maybe Joshua was not even out there at all. Maybe Neku is only mentally screaming into the void, being swallowed up by the crowd's of Shibuya, or lost and swept up high above Pork City. He should accept that Joshua's not listening and not coming back.

But he can't bring himself to.

He would still find himself wondering – when he was with his friends when he was wandering in Udagawa, even when he was in school – if Joshua would see him or catch his thoughts. If he even cared enough to try.

He hoped at least. He wished.

However, as days passed, those musings became less and less frequent. It became less of him dwelling on them purposefully and more them popping in on his other stream of thoughts until he almost couldn't remember the last time he felt them linger.

Because despite his confusion and his frustration and his anger and newfound happiness, he still meant those words he's said that first week back.

  
  


Neku was close to giving up.

He doesn't want to abandon Joshua or the answers the other embodies, but as the only person reaching out, he doesn't have a choice.

  
  


He figures Shiki might have picked up on his sour mood lately. She doesn't say anything, but for the last three days, she's invited him out with her to Eri's house.

And Eri's house is one of the best spots for hangouts they have. Not only is it nice on the inside, but during her Junior high years, she'd gotten her parent to let her convert their empty basement into a miniature studio. When Neku had first seen the space, it had floored him.

Most of the space is taken up with shelves and plastic cabinets overflowing with fabric, buttons, and string as well as a table that stretched along one wall that held a sewing machine and the other side cluttered with sketchbooks or scraps of paper containing designs. Sometimes a current project is strewn on any available space or the only mannequin was in the corner near where the regular house storage was placed.

But part of the studio, Eri had also reserved for him.

When there was nothing to do while Shiki and Eri worked together on their own fashion projects, Neku usually pulled out his sketchbook and began sketching. Eri had been nice enough to lend him one of hers at the time and later gifted it to him once he had filled up over half the pages.

He'd had his own sketchbooks before, but he doesn't even really want to linger on those. They give him a weird impression when he looks at them or sometimes even when he thinks about them. They have now been moved to a pile underneath his bed.

And he'd never really had the desire to share his art before. It was more of something to keep to himself. Though there hadn't been many to show anyway. But Shiki, Beat, and Rhyme had admired his style when he hesitantly revealed to them the sketches and certain designs he'd been experimenting with. Eri too had been impressed.

Considering their relationship now, it seemed silly he'd had doubts about whether he and Eri would get along enough to be friends. Besides the surrealness of still associating her appearance with Shiki herself, he didn't anticipate they'd share much in common. However, besides Beat, Eri was the one who'd invested the most in his “art career.” Her words, not his.

The designs he'd completed for Beat's skateboard had gotten him compliments, but upon first sharing his sketches for the first time, Eri had taken it upon herself to become the biggest encourager to his work. She supplied him with leftover sketchbooks when he ran out of space, lent him pens and pencils she said she could spare. She even managed to get paint markers for him, the kind you shouldn't be able to purchase when you're their age. How she managed that, he will never know.

But Eri really was a person passionate in support of creativity of all kinds, and that aspect about her was something Neku really admired and respected. He could see why she and Shiki worked so well together.

And he thinks Eri has also picked up on his mood as well. There was talk last time he was over of him trying something on for measurement (an experience Neku never really found pleasant), but when they arrive and make their way down the steps, Shiki and Eri begin on a new project and leave Neku to his own corner.

And he fell willingly into it, pulled out the sketchbook he'd been working through lately.

Unfortunately, with his sour mood also came a sort of art block. He still puts lines to paper, but none of them he felt satisfied with.

He doesn't want to be bitter about it and he doesn't feel it's fair to blame everything entirely on Josh, but it's hard to ignore how this period how this period of art block has coincided with his recent slew of irritation and confusion at the other.

He just wants to know why? Why anything? Why _everything_? Why does he remember? Why is he receiving nothing but radio silence? Why is he forced to face this all alone? Why why why why –

“What are you working on?”

Shiki's voice floats in so suddenly that Neku almost jolts out of his seat.

“Nothing,” he says quickly and looks back at his blank page except where the blot of ink in the corner where he'd been pressing his pen down rather hard.

“Are you sure? You seemed really... focused,” Eri comments.

“Yeah,” he agrees, though non-committally, “It's nothing..”He doesn't see Shiki or Eri exchange a look, but Eri bounces back much quicker.

“So,” she starts, making her way closer to Neku's corner, “have you thought up any more ideas about that _project_ we talked about?” She smirks.

And for a second, all Neku's other emotions are forgotten when cold panic clenches in his chest.

“No, I haven't.” It comes out grumpier than intended, but he hopes it gets across his mood of “not now.”

“Oh, come on, don't make that face,” Eri chides him, “I know you'd do great at it.”

Yes, he may have respected and admired Eri's passion for creativity, but this... this was an entirely different experience for him.

“What are you talking about?” Shiki asked curiously.

Neku cringed. It had been Eri who had first proposed the idea to him. He really didn't want to make light of the project to anyone else until he was sure he had a good design. And enough resolve.

Thankfully, Eri cut in before he could say anything. “That's a confidential secret between Neku and me for the moment, dear Shiki,” she says playfully.

Shiki still seems confused, looking to Neku to make sure he's comfortable before her expression softens and she smiles. “Well, with you two, whatever it is, I know it will be great.” Neku smiles then, grateful for her support.

“Oh, Neku, what about the patch designs we talked about?” she then asks.

“Oh right,” he says. Neku disregards his blank page in favor of designs he has been working on and that are mostly finished. He tried to make them interesting yet simple as both Shiki and Eri are learning on how to make sown patches and he figured he could try to help them out with some practice examples.

And for a moment, all that matters is the excitement in Shiki and Eri's faces as he shows them what he's designed so far.

  
  


It's late when they all finish up. Shiki's home is the farthest and she has to take the train. Neku and Eri walk her to the station like they normally do. And after Shiki said her goodbyes to them that Neku waited with Eri for his bus near to her house. Rarely does he walk home, especially since he'd lost his headphones.

And it was these moments where Eri would ambush him with her ideas to help further his “art career.”

“So, what's holding you back?”

The question is sudden that Neku almost feels like he may have spaced out in their casual conversation.

“Um, what?”

And Eri gave him this look he knew meant she was expecting him to keep up.

“I meant about the project! I think it could be good for you. And I'm sure you'd have fun doing it,” she told him.

“I'm not denying that... it's just...” Neku said, “I just don't have the inspiration right now, Eri, and besides, I don't have the kind of tools for that.”

“Let me worry about that,” Eri giggled.

They were almost to the bus stop when Neku heard his phone ring. He dug in his pocket for it before it could finish ringing, but when he looked he didn't recognize the number and ignored it.

“Who was that?”

“Dunno.”

“Well, like I was telling you –”

Eri was interrupted when Neku's phone rang again. He dug it out of his pocket again and sighed in annoyance at the same unknown number staring back at him. He ignored it again and shoved it back in his pocket.

“Are you sure you don't want to get that?” Eri asked him.

“No. I don't even know who –”

He then felt his phone vibrate with a text notification. For a second he thought about ignoring that too. Oh, what the hell, he thought, maybe I can ask them what the hell they want from me.

He pulls it out to look and his whole body freezes in place.

> **Unknown Number:** You might want to answer that, Nekky dear. 

Neku stared. His mouth might have been hanging open too.

And he didn't really know what to think. He only knew that he was sure of who it was on the other end of this number, more certain than he was of most other things in his life.

“Neku?”

Neku nearly jolted as Eri placed her hand on his shoulder. Her face held concern, possibly sensing the imminent oncoming crisis he was about to experience.

“I'm fine,” he said a little too quickly, a little too roughly, “I do... I do have to take this.”

He could tell Eri was still concerned and confused and he is feeling all that as well. Except for the fact that his feel like they've been plugged into an amplifier.

“Okay,” she concedes, “Text me when you get home, yeah?” She says that every time he goes home and it's comforting, especially at this moment.

“I will,” he assures her, with a smile he hopes is as well.

Eri returns it with a small smile of her own, then turns and leaves, only turning around once to observe him before making her way down the street and turned the corner.

He stands there, still, on the sidewalk. He knows a part of himself is still trying to catch up to the present. That's when his phone rings again.

There's nothing he thinks to do except to answer.

How were you even supposed to answer something like this? There's no way to start this with a “hello” or a “how ya doing?”

“Joshua,” he says.

And he cringes a bit at how uncertain he sounds, but it doesn't last long when he hears the voice on the other end.

“You know, Neku, normal people usually say hello by way of greeting.”

Yeah, that's definitely Josh, even if he sounds a tad different over the phone. And hearing it makes him boil over

.“Yeah? Well, normal people don't go around” – _shooting other people_ , his mind supplies, but “– erasing other people's memories,” is what comes out. Neku almost curses in frustration.

And then there's Joshua's insufferable giggle on the other end. “Hmm, you make a fair point,” he says, “Although, I suppose it's good that I'm not normal people.”

“Neither am I,” Neku counters.

Joshua laughs again. “Noted.”

There a beat of silence and Neku remembers how he's upset at Josh, at the situation he's been put in against his will. And not for the first time.“I –” But what was he supposed to ask? Hey Josh, how's life? How's the game? You're the Composer, huh? Kind of fucked up isn't how you lead me on?

“Why did you call me?”

Because there has to be a reason. That Joshua has been the one to call him, the one to reach out to him. Now. After ignoring all Neku's attempts. After he'd almost decided to give up. Was it maybe because of that?

But he shouldn't have expected Joshua to make it so easy.

“Not the talkative sort tonight?” the other chides over the phone, “Unfortunately, there are circumstances keeping me at bay from speaking to you face-to-face, but I thought I should offer reciprocation to your charming words.”

_Fuck._ It's all Neku can really think as his heart pounds and his face warms in embarrassment.

_So you did hear me. Then I hope you fucking hear this you asshole._ “Well, I guess I shouldn't be surprised considering what you've put me through.”

“Hmm, well Neku, in answer to your earlier complaint, it's not really necessary for your friends to know about my identity, is it?” 

And Neku sighs, although somewhat interested in the way Joshua has no retort to his own comment.

“Whatever.” He knows there's any point in trying to argue why it pisses him off.

“I guess it's just easier to have them think you're dead,” he bites back.

“Technically... I wasn't responsible for imprinting that particular theory.”

“That's because I –!” He stops as his throat nearly closes up.

Neku grits his teeth. He's angry. He feels – no, he knows – he's getting nowhere. Honestly, he shouldn't have expected anything different.

“Whatever,” he says again, wishing his voice didn't sound rough, “good to see you haven't changed all that much, Josh.”

He's expecting another laugh or some other teasing comment about how he can't take a joke or lighten up, but it never comes. On the other end, it's completely silent.

“Josh?”

There's still no answer.

“Hello?” Neku tries again. There's still no answer.

“Joshua, I swear to God if you –”

“I'm here.” He hears Joshua say, but his tone is different now. It's harder and sounds maybe a little distracted. Despite still being upset, Neku can't help the concern.

“Are you –”

But Joshua cuts him off again. “Sorry, Nekky dear, but it seems I must cut this exchange short,” Joshua sing-songs almost, as if trying to mask the slip up of  
his earlier tone.

“Wait!" And Neku grips his phone with two hands as if the physical force of that will keep Joshua on the line.

“I still...” he pauses, swallows, “I still wanna talk so... just... don't disappear again, alright?”

It makes him embarrassed and vulnerable to admit this, but Neku can't care about how he may sound in this moment. All he knows is that he has a chance and he doesn't want any more regrets.

“Just like, I don't know, text me or something. Just –”

“Neku, I'll text you.”

Neku is almost speechless by how easily the other complies. “Okay. Bye,” he manages.

There's no returned farewell before the call ends.

And Neku stands there on the sidewalk even after the call is over. 

His bus may have already come and gone and he wouldn't have known.


	2. Chapter 2

Shibuya is far from quiet. 

There should be no surprise there. Shibuya had always been turbulent and unique in its brand of Music even before Joshua. 

It was hard to understand just what about it made it so different from others. The difference in tempo or harmony was too limiting a description. The best most accurate would be polyphonic—many simultaneous melodies—rather than a more heterophonic music parameter.

Shibuya was dense. It was full.

It stood in stark contrast to when, recently, the whole city had resonated only a single note. Since it's restoration, Joshua almost regretted it. 

It had once been hard for him to remember what had drawn him to the Music of this city. The notes that had once seemed so new and exciting grew sour in his ears. Compared to that, a single monotonous chord was almost a relief. Almost. 

However, Joshua wants to avoid the Music nowadays for a different reason. Mostly due to its changes.  
Joshua is still discovering the consequences of entangling himself with Neku Sakuraba. And the latest of these discoveries is the effect on Shibuya's music. 

There should be no surprise. It was an inevitability. Any soul returned from the UG, even in such an unconventional way as Neku Sakuraba and his friends, was to spread their influence and fuel imagination and creativity. 

And Neku Sakuraba, even before the Long Game, was never an individual to lack imagination. But it is still surprising how clear that influence is. 

Sweeping, crystal-clear chords that rose high, almost above all else, but rather than dominate, intertwined with the very core of Shibuya's music. 

It was arguable that Neku Sakuraba was more in tuned to the soul of Shibuya than its own Composer. 

_Well, that's all well and good_ , Joshua can only think. 

It's good the former proxy is in tuned to Shibuya. It is good he can expand himself creatively. It's good he's found others he can befriend and relate to. It's good that Neku Sakuraba has grown. 

Joshua cannot say the same. 

_What did the Higher Plane call it? Probation?_

It's admittedly a surprise, especially since that means they also suspended the Game for the time being. However, that means the Higher Plane will have to decide soon, before the Reapers begin fading or, more importantly for them, Shibuya stagnates. 

But Joshua doesn't let that stop him. If he's to remain imprisoned until his sentence is given, he's going to go wherever he can even if it is only in the RG. Sanae can stay locked up in his cafe if he'd like, but that doesn't mean Joshua has to be confined. Even after all he's experienced, the city still holds some amusement. 

And it's easier in the RG. The handicap had been an equalizer for the Long Game and had served its purpose. Now it's just a chance to muffle the racket. 

The Music filters in slower almost as if from another room. Thoughts still swarm, no longer as loud as they are in the UG but also not fully formed, more snippets. Joshua will catch some— 

_Wish I could get air like that..._

_Did I lock the door this morning?_

_Aw, geez, fired again..._

_It's probably time to redo my lipstick..._

_What about me? Why do I get to remember?_

—and they'll disperse just as rapidly as they appear.

And that's fine with him.

  
  


Being in WildKat has not been a very pleasant experience as of late. Perhaps even longer if Joshua would care to recall that far back. 

But even though to the RG the cafe looked empty, Joshua knew better. And he still entered as he had so many times before despite the closed sign hanging on the doorknob. 

He's never seen another person in the cafe. It makes sense now, seeing as it has been closed indefinitely, but even when he first found himself here so long ago, there's never been anyone else. That was a constant. That and the smell of coffee. 

Joshua slides on to a stool at the counter and folds his hands. 

“When are you thinking about opening up shop again?” 

Sanae only looks at him from the corner of his eye behind the counter as he ties a black apron around his waist. 

“Dunno boss,” he replies when he's finished, “depends on how things play out.” 

Joshua watches as the other pulls a mug from off of the shelf at the back wall and promptly wipes it down with a small cloth. “Coffee?” he asks. 

“Yes. Black.” 

“Of course,” Sanae says with a nod. 

Joshua sits, smells the coffee brewing, and almost wants to laugh. 

There appears to be an unspoken agreement between them that they won't address the tension tangible in their interactions. 

Joshua is well aware of Sanae's actions during the Long Game. He'd had his inklings in the beginning; although he found Minamimoto amusing, he had to admit his plan seemed too polished for someone so brash. And his suspicions were harshly spelled out to him as true by the Higher Plane not long after.  
But Joshua doesn't let himself dwell on it. He doesn't let himself feel bitter. He doesn't let himself feel hurt. He ignores it. 

Sanae knows this. He knows Joshua won't give him the time of day if he tries to bring it up. He knows Joshua isn't looking for an apology whether or not the Producer will mean it. And Joshua is well aware that he knows this. Thus this tension-riddled charade between them. The only thing Joshua will concede to is that it is rather pitiful. 

He comes out of his thoughts when the cup of coffee is set in front of him. “Thank you.” 

“So, have you talked to him yet?” 

Joshua sips his coffee before answering. “Talked to who now?” he asks, a faux naivety purposefully creeping into his tone. 

But Sanae doesn't have to clarify. “He's been trying to contact you.” 

_If you can call that contacting._

Yet another reason to remain in the RG where the effect isn't as loud, but still noticeable as the thoughts are rather loud and are directly for him. 

“Mentally shouting thoughts into the city does not count as an attempt to contact someone,” Joshua counters. 

Sanae shrugs, “Perhaps. S'not like you made it easy on him.” 

That implies that Joshua has a choice. There's no way he's provoking the Higher Plane. He's at least smart enough to know contacting his former proxy will not work either in any of their favors. Or perhaps he's wrong. Direct action would have been the most logical course of action for the Higher plane, but instead, they've stuck them in a sort of limbo.

The coffee is getting colder. And Sanae leans down to pull something out of the cupboard and places it on the counter. 

It's a pair of headphones. A pair of all too familiar headphones. 

“What are these for?” 

Sanae doesn't meet his gaze. “I figured he'd want them back.” He then picks up the headphones, inspecting them fondly, “They are limited edition, after all.” 

Joshua resists the urge to roll his eyes and sets his cup down with a little more force than necessary. “And what, exactly, do you want _me_ to do with them?” 

Sanae places them back down on the counter and gives him a hardened look. Joshua just returns it with a pout of his own. 

He knows what Sanae is trying to do. It's a blatant excuse for him to contact his former proxy, but there's nothing stopping him from taking them and just leaving them somewhere Neku could find them. But even though he's stated it before, his Producer doesn't seem to accept that he doesn't want to see Neku Sakuraba and he doesn't need an excuse to do so. 

He leans back with a huff in his seat, arms crossed. “If he abandoned them in the street, I don't think he'll appreciate them being dropped back on his doorstep.” 

Sanae leans back from the counter. “Perhaps,” he concedes, “but that's a little narrowminded of you, J.” 

_As if it's that easy_ , Joshua thinks to himself, thoughts as bitter as the coffee. 

“Shouldn't I be trying to stay out of trouble?” 

And Sanae has the nerve to laugh at that, full-throated and hearty. Fair enough, it's just a hollow excuse, after all, Joshua deserved it. Doesn't mean he still can't be irritated by it. 

“I don't remember that ever stopping you before.” 

“Your hive mind won't appreciate it.” 

Sanae doesn't have an answer and Joshua takes a long sip of coffee. It's gone cold. 

There's a silence that follows. Joshua watches Sanae pull down cups from their shelves and begins to wipe them with the cloth he had slung over his shoulder. They are, in fact, clean. And Joshua knows they are. Barely any dust should have collected on them as Sanae had washed them and put them back up just yesterday. 

“So,” Sanae says while wiping down the last cup, “what are you going to do?” His tone is much softer than before and that subtle shift leads to another in the atmosphere. 

“What do you mean?” Joshua asks, but he can feel himself tense. 

Sanae places the cup back on the shelf. “Well, you're out quite a few Reapers, not to mention a Conductor. Maybe even soon a Producer–” 

“That last one is not _my_ doing,” Joshua snaps. 

It comes out harsher than intended, so much so Joshua can sense the calm facade shatter. 

Sanae doesn't manage to say anything before Joshua is already out of his seat. 

“Thanks for the coffee. Put it on my tab,” he says. 

He leaves the coffee half finished and cold. He takes the headphones.

  
  


Joshua shouldn't have taken the headphones. 

He turns them over in his hands. Observing closer, it's easy to catch the signs of use like the light scratches and some fading on the band. Charming. 

Then there's the question of what he should do with them now that he has them. 

As he told his Producer, there's nothing stopping him from just placing them somewhere the other could find them. Or he could be that asshole and just leave them in the street again as it's former owner had. 

Selling it is also an option too. If what Sanae said about it being limited edition was true, it would probably fetch quite a price on or offline. 

It was a tempting idea. 

But even as Joshua let himself entertain the idea, he already knew there was no going through with it.

_Too much effort._

  
  


Joshua has had many ideas throughout the course of his existence. Whether they are good or bad is all in perspective and hindsight. 

Although, objectively, the idea to call Neku all around has no upside. 

“Joshua.” 

“You know, Neku, normal people usually say hello by way of greeting.” 

But Joshua finds it easy to slip into this persona, now that he has Neku's attention. He tells himself he enjoys the teasing, but it's most likely because Neku is the only person he can pull this with and the other will take it at face value. 

“Yeah? Well, normal people don't go around erasing other people's memories.” 

_Oh someone's bitter_ , Joshua almost says, but continues with, “Hmm, you make a fair point. Although, I suppose it's good that I'm not normal people.” 

Joshua doesn't resist the subtle jab, but perhaps that has more to do with the fact that it irks Joshua to be reminded of his failure to remove Neku's memories. 

“Neither am I,” Neku retorts, and oh, how Joshua already knows. And damn, does that fact also not fail to piss him off. 

“Noted,” he replies cooly. 

There's a beat of silence, and even where Joshua is—perched on the roof of an average house—only a few houses down from where Neku is standing still on the sidewalk, he can feel the uncomfortableness roll off of Neku in waves. 

Then there's the question, “Why did you call me?” 

For a moment, it surprises Joshua. There are many things he can think of himself that Neku could demand answers to, but finds it unexpected that Neku would cut right to the point. Or perhaps it surprises him because he himself has no real answer to the question. 

But Joshua could use this to end the conversation quickly, tell Neku where he is, leave the headphones and disappear out of his former proxy's life at least in the physical sense. 

However, he doesn't, because even if Neku is going to be passive in his questions, Joshua doesn't think he will be. 

“Not the talkative sort tonight? Unfortunately, there are circumstances keeping me at bay from speaking to you face-to-face, but I thought I should offer reciprocation to your charming words.” 

_So you did hear me. Then I hope you hear this you asshole._

And Joshua does hear it, only because he's paying attention and almost giggles in amusement. 

“Well, I guess I shouldn't be surprised considering what you've put me through.

It's meant to sting. 

_It doesn't._

_It does._

Joshua hums, “Hmm, well Neku, in answer to your earlier complaint, it's not really necessary for your friends to know about my identity, is it?” 

Neku sighs on the other end of the phone. “Whatever. I guess it's just easier to have them think you're dead.” 

“Technically... I wasn't responsible for imprinting that particular theory,” Joshua replies. 

“That's because I–” but Neku doesn't finish, cuts himself off quickly. Joshua remains silent. 

“Whatever,” Neku says again, seeming to have given up on articulating any further. “Good to see you haven't changed all that much, Josh.” 

That's true. Joshua hasn't really changed, has he? The only thing that had changed was as his Producer had said, he was out almost half his personnel, maybe even soon said Producer unless the Higher Plane decided to be merciful. 

“Josh?” 

And then where would he be? Even after he had "set things right", he was still just himself, loathing and barely able to bring himself to enter the UG. 

“Hello?” 

But hadn't that been true even before the Long Game? 

“Joshua, I swear to God if you–” 

Joshua blinks, his phone almost slipping from his hand where it's hot against his ear. 

“I'm here,” he answers quickly, too quickly in fact that he's cursing himself because even he can detect the roughness in his own voice. 

“Are you–” 

_Are you okay?_ Joshua catches the concern before Neku even finishes and knows he doesn't want it. 

Or deserve it. 

“Sorry, Nekky dear,” Joshua says, putting on that sickly sweet tone he knows his former proxy will hate, “but it seems I must cut this exchange short.” 

“Wait!” 

Joshua wants to hang up the phone, wants to exit this conversation, however, he holds off. 

“I still... I still wanna talk so... just... don't disappear again, alright.” 

Joshua doesn't answer. 

“Just like, I don't know, text me or something. Just–” 

“Neku,” Joshua says firmly, “I'll text you.” And he hangs up. 

_Always giving yourself an out_ , Joshua thinks, but it sounds suspiciously like Sanae. 

Joshua pockets his phone. He watches as Neku stands still on the sidewalk for before breaking into a run, like any average anime character, to catch his oncoming bus. 

Shibuya is far from quiet. 

And it's become almost overwhelming. 

Joshua removes the headphones from around his neck—so much for giving them back, he supposes—and puts them on. 

Finally, silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, that took a while. Happy New Year!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> B̶e̶l̶i̶e̶v̶e̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶o̶r̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶f̶i̶r̶s̶t̶ ̶s̶c̶e̶n̶e̶ ̶t̶o̶o̶k̶ ̶m̶e̶ ̶l̶i̶k̶e̶ ̶a̶ ̶m̶o̶n̶t̶h̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶w̶r̶i̶t̶e̶
> 
> I wanna say thanks to Alyssa_C and Flat_San for not only making me cry tears of joy but for reigniting my motivation to keep going.

Neku wakes up to drool on his hand and his phone nearly dead. When he pushes himself into an upright position, his head lightly throbs. _Oh wonderful_ , he thinks.

He plugs his phone into the charger and heads to the bathroom.

He hates how tired he is, but he can't control it. Sleeping hadn't always been the easiest task for him—he was a night owl practically by nature—but ever since the call from Joshua, falling asleep had become considerably more difficult.

If he'd thought Joshua was on his mind a lot after the Long Game, the feeling seems worse now. The anxiousness prevents him from falling into unconsciousness, his nerves on edge as he waits for a phone that most likely won't ring. He feels unable to be still, much less lay down in his bed, so he spends those nights sketching till his eyes ache in those times. And he forgets to charge his phone.

When he leaves the bathroom, he heads towards the kitchen. No school today, so Neku makes an attempt at making coffee with the hot water dispenser. It's more of a messy process than he'd have liked, but it pays off.

When he's finished, he notices how quiet the house is. It makes sense considering it is only him alone in the quaint two-bedroom house he calls his home. He doesn't dwell on it.

He brings his phone and charger into the kitchen and plugs it into the only outlet before flipping through his notifications.

There's some alerting him of promotional emails he has no interest in.

There's a few for the Twitter Eri made him set up and he hardly ever checks it.

(“Having a platform is important for an artist. A way to share your work and get contacted,” she'd said, “At least follow our clothing account with it to support us, Mr. Grumpy.”)

But the notification that draws his attention the most comes from a text from Eri he'd received almost twenty minutes ago.

> **Eri:** I'm coming by in about a half hour. Warning you so you can make sure to put on pants.

Neku has to read the text a couple of times before it finally registers.

A small dose of panic courses through him as he quickly makes his way to his room. He decides to leave the shirt he'd slept in on while he pulls a pair of wrinkled shorts up and over his boxers.

Neku isn't sure why Eri's invited herself over, but he has a sneaking suspicion it's about “their” project that he's been dodging inquiries about since his talk with Josh. Not that he had been too keen on it, to begin with. But if Eri was making the trip all the way to his house, her time of giving him space was about to come to an end.

But if he didn't have the motivation before then he doubts he does now with all that's on his mind.

He makes it back to the kitchen now with shorts and also his sketchbook. He sits at the small table in the middle of the room and sips his coffee as he looks through the sketches from last night.

Most are half finished. Sketches don't seem an appropriate word for them either, they're more like scribbles, half-formed ideas barely given life. He'd inked some of them, but most were lined out in pencil. They are also small.

He feels the bitterness well up inside him. He knows he's his harshest critic and not having the best concentration as of late hasn't helped dampen his souring mood towards his own work. If he'd let himself dwell on it, he'd find he'd been feeling this way for quite a while.

It's less than ten minutes later that Neku gets a knock on his door. He leaves his sketchbook and coffee on the table to answer it.

It takes him a second, but when he opens he finds Eri, furiously texting on her phone.

Her look of intense concentration disappears when she sees him at the door.

“Oh, thank goodness,” she says, “I'm sorry if I woke you up with my text. I didn't even think about how you might want to sleep in on a Sunday morning and just invited myself over.”

Neku shakes his head. “You didn't. I just saw it not that long ago,” he explains, “Besides, it's almost ten, anyway.” He motions for her to come in.

He thinks she must be cold without her hat and in such a short dress without a jacket, but maybe that's what the jeans and boots are for. But he is in shorts practically all the time, so he's not one to judge.

“Thank you,” she tells him, getting inside and begins taking off her boots. He then that he notices the hefty canvas bag she has slung over her shoulder. Hefty and rather bulky.

“What's that?”

Eri looks to where he's motioning once she lines her boots against the wall near the door. She grins. “All in good time.”

Neku rolls his eyes, but it's affectionate.

They make their way down the hall and back into the kitchen. Eri sets the bag down by one of the chairs and seats herself at the table.

“Do you want anything?” Neku asks, “I have, uh, water, instant cocoa, or I can try to make you coffee, maybe?”

“I'll take cocoa if you're offering, please,” she says.

He nods. It's easy to make, so he doesn't mind. He opens a package and adds hot water from the dispenser, hearing the sounds of Eri texting on her phone. He'd just finished stirring the contents when Eri chirps, “Oh? What are these? You holding out on me?”

At first, Neku isn't sure what she's talking about until he turns around and Eri is leaning to look at his sketchbook he'd left open on the table.

The first thing he feels is dread and his heart beat spikes with a swell of useless panic. But Eri looks at him she gives him a reassuring smile. “Are you okay with me looking?”

He nods.

Eri picks up the sketchbook and brings it closer to observe while Neku places the cocoa next to her and grabs his own cup of coffee.

Neku hates to admit that he's watching to gage Eri's reaction closely as her eyes roam over the two pages he'd scribbled in last night. He's not sure if she realizes how much he values her input.

Eri seems to pick up on his agitation (Both she and Shiki were scarily good at reading him) and says, “Don't define your artistic ability by three a.m. doodles, Neku.”

How Eri knows he'd done them in the early hours of the morning is beyond him. Perhaps it's the sloppiness.

But she's teasing him, he realizes, and chuckles, “Sorry.”

“There's no need to apologize,” she tells him. She pushes the sketchbook back towards him and picks up the mug of cocoa he'd placed for her.

“Mm, thank you,” she says after taking a sip.

“No problem.”

“You really do have talent, Neku.”

Eri says it so soft and sincere that Neku is taken aback, to the point where he can't even muster up the humor to make a joke about that talent includes mastering the art of instant cocoa.

“Why do you seem so surprised?” she laughs.

“I don't know...” is Neku's half-assed answer.

Compliments on his art kind of make him self-conscious is the short explanation he guesses. It feels as if his whole essence is being observed and criticized under a microscope. However, he knows he doesn't feel very talented, especially looking at his—as Eri put it— “three a.m. doodles.”

“I understand,” she says, “I've been restless some of my designs myself. I'm sure Shiki can say the same.”

“Yeah,” Neku says noncommittally as he rubs the back of his head, “I don't know. I just... couldn't sleep.” He shrugs.

Eri finished another sip from her mug and her eyebrows knit together in concern.

“Are you okay?” she asks. When he shrugs again, she continues, “Is something bothering you?”

 _Oh if only you knew,_ Neku thinks to himself bitterly.

“Isn't there something bothering everyone?” He means it as a joke, but even he can tell how hollow it sounds.

Eri gives him one of her signature looks—the kind that's usually reserved for Beat, but perhaps a little more serious this time—the kind that expresses annoyance in more facets than Neku could ever hope to achieve.

“I'm serious. Is there?”

Neku resists the urge to shrug again and just says, “Yeah, I guess.”

There's a moment of silence between them and it stretches for a time that a shiver of anxiety runs through him. But eventually, Eri hums, something he hears more at times when he knows she's parsing out a design.

Then she asks him, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Honestly, _yes,_ Neku would love to talk about it, despite all the anxiety it is also likely to cause him. The only problem is that the only one who would understand had disappeared from the face of the earth. Or so he'd thought. And now that he knows communication with Joshua may be possible is scrambling his brain. Not to mention all the other thoughts and experiences having to do with the Game that linger with him that he can't delve into with his friends.

And he wishes he could tell Eri this. Or Shiki. Or Beat. Or even Rhyme. But at the moment, he feels he's stuck between a rock and a hard place.

He doesn't really know how to explain all this to Eri in words, so in response, he shakes his head. 

Eri gives another thoughtful hum and taps a finger to her chin. “How about be distracted from it instead?” she asks.

Neku almost laughs. Her words are nice in a way he didn't even know he wanted and gives a smile he hopes doesn't look as tired as it feels on his face.

“That sounds good.”

And Eri grins. “Is it okay to bring up the project?”

 _Oh, what the hell._ “Yeah, why not,” he grants her.

Eri seems to be vibrating with excitement now. “Really? Are you sure?”

“Yeah, yeah, you have my permission.”

“So you're really gonna do it?”

“Sure, I mean, I'll try. I can't promise it will be any good, but–”

“Stop it,” Eri interrupts, a firmness rooted in her voice, “Don't say stuff like that. You'll only set yourself up for failure.

“You can try, but whether it's deemed "good" is kind of subjective. But as an artist, it's important to use what you create to see what you can and want to improve. And that's how you get better. So, either way, you should be proud of what you accomplish.”

“Wow,” Neku breathed, somewhat speechless, “you really know how to give a pep talk.” He chuckles.

Eri laughs with him. “I don't know if pep is quite the right word, but, yeah. Had to give and receive them quite a bit myself. Shiki and I have definitely had our own struggles with projects.”

It makes sense. Neku's seen the lines of frustration on both Eri and Shiki's faces, temporary exasperation at needle-pricked fingers, and not to mention Shiki's pet-peeve of loose buttons or Eri's disdain for jagged stitching.

“You're right.”

Then Eri grabs his hand that had been resting on top of the table. Her eyes are gleaming and she's giving him the biggest grin he's ever seen.

“Oh Neku, it's gonna be great,” she tells him, “ _You're_ gonna be great!”

Neku can't even say thank you, or much less anything else before Eri is rattling off words at a fast pace.

“We gotta plan now. You probably want to plan out a design. We have to tell Shiki and Beat and Rhyme! Oh, this is so exciting! And we'll have to find a spot in Udagawa–”

“Ud-Udagawa?” Neku chokes.

Eri pauses then says, “Yes, obviously.”

“ _Why?_ ”

It's a stupid question to ask, but it slips out anyway in his befuddlement.

“Why not?” Eri pulls her hands back, “You have somewhere else in mind?”

“No,” Neku admits, “but I thought it'd be on the side of some abandoned building or the underside of a bridge. Not–”

“–Somewhere people will actually see it?” Eri finishes, something close to a smirk playing on her lips.

“That's not what I meant.”

But in actuality, it kind of was.

“So you want me to just walk up and tag something in Udagawa?”

“ _Yes_ , that's exactly what I'm saying,” Eri states matter-of-factly, “Is Udagawa really that intimidating?”

“ _Kinda,_ ” Neku admits, “wouldn't it to you?”

Eri goes quiet at that. “Yeah... that's understandable.” But she perks up a second later. “Well, I'll give you that. You can decide where you want to put it, but you're already committed.”

“Yes, of course,” Neku chuckles.

His attention then focuses back to the canvas bag Eri had set down on the floor beside her.

“I can only guess what's in there,” he says, nodding towards the canvas bag.

Eri seems to only then remember the bag exists herself. She nods and looks almost sheepishly. “Can't deny it. These were here to bribe you.”

She picks the bag up off the floor and sets it up on the table. Neku can hear the distinct clink of metal on metal from inside when she does.

“Please don't be spending all your money on me,” Neku tells her, but, even as he says it, can't stop the grin spreading across his face.

Eri laughs. “Alright. As long as you promise to do your best.”

  
  


Eri left not long after with the promise to “find whatever other colors you might need” if he had any. And when she'd left, he'd quickly spilled the contents of the bag onto his small kitchen table.

There were twelve cans of paint. They were basic colors—red, blue, orange, green, etc.—with some others like teal and purple, and of course black and white. He looked them over with shaking hands.

Despite the anxiousness, Neku felt—well, still did—about the project, he threw himself into it with full force.

He wants to do it. Even if his confidence in his abilities were lacking, the want to do it was overwhelming now that he had the tools to achieve it within his grasp.

And focusing on the project also gave him enough purpose to distract from the wandering thoughts the phone call from Joshua had brought back.

Now when he stayed up in the late hours of the night, it was nice to have the motivation of the project at the forefront of his mind rather than being reminded he was only doing something because he was too stressed to let his mind wander.

But, again, it's not that he didn't enjoy the prep.

Testing the paint was his first priority after acquiring it. And, thankfully, a canvas, tarp, and procedure masks were something he could afford to buy himself.

The cans weren't as hard to get the hang of as he'd expected.

It took a bit of getting used to, but he soon was able to translate his motions from drawing to the new medium. There may have been a few more of those iconic graffiti drips than he'd like, but with some experimenting and the use of various different tips, he was able to remedy that.

It was only after he'd grasped the technique that his inspiration high crashed.

Neku was sure it was nervousness that caused it. At least not entirely, he was sure. It was probably a multitude of things. However, what matter was that, even if he was adept at using the paint cans, he could not decide on what to paint.

No matter how much he experimented with color or how late he stayed up, studying references and sketching, nothing he looked at felt worthwhile enough to throw up onto a wall.

He was so desperate for something satisfying he even dug his old sketchbooks out from underneath his bed to flip through.

But nothing was gained from that except an increase in self-loathing and lingering regret.

He began bringing his current sketchbook to school with him, half-heartedly taking notes while sketching, and heading to the library to do the same thing during lunch.

And Neku shouldn't be surprised at his burn out. He'd pushed himself and as a result, the past few weeks have flown by and also left him exhausted.

He drops his bag on the floor by his door on a Saturday after school. Again, the house is empty save for him.

He doesn't bring out his sketchbook or touch his paint. Instead, he lets himself fall atop his bed and promptly passes out.

  
  


Neku jolts awake when he hears his phone ring.

Although his mind is racing at being suddenly woken up, his body hasn't caught up yet from being asleep.

Because of that, it takes him a second to reach for his phone, which is, incidentally, in the pocket of his pants.

At first, he wonders if it's even worth it when he could still fall back asleep. A second later he remembers the possibility of it being Joshua and quickly fumbles for it.

He doesn't even glance at the screen when he answers “Hello?” clearly enough but with the roughness of sleep still present.

“Neku! Geez, where have you been?”

“Shiki?”

“Uh, yeah, who do you think has been texting you for the last hour?”

It's a bit of relief and a bit of disappointment that falls over him, but mostly it's confusion. He keeps the phone pressed to his ear as he rolls over on his back.

It's only then that he registers what Shiki's said, “Huh? What?”

“I said, I've been trying to text you for the last hour,” she reiterates.

“Oh...” is Neku's limited reply. He pulls back the phone to check his notifications and, sure enough, there are several unread text messages, mostly from Shiki, but one from Beat and also Eri.

> **Beat:** Yo Phones u ther? Shiki's mad freakin

Neku smiles at the message despite himself. Beat always did have a way with words.

He checks the one from Eri next.

> **Eri:** Hey, Shiki told me you might be stressing over the project. I hope you don't think I'm pressuring you. I never meant to give you that impression. I'm so sorry if that was the case.

_Shit._ This was turning into a mess.

The last string of notifications were Shiki's.

> **Shiki:** Hey Neku, are you doing alright?
> 
> **Shiki:** How's the project going?
> 
> **Shiki:** Seriously Neku can we talk?
> 
> **Shiki:** Sakuraba. I swear if you don't pick up your phone I'm coming over

“Neku?”

Shiki's voice reminds him he hasn't spoken since trailing off.

“Sorry,” he says, “I didn't mean to ignore them. I was sleeping.”

“Oh,” Shiki says, the frustration previously present in her voice now dimmed, “Oh, I didn't know.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I'm glad you did. You've been looking dreadful lately,” she tells him matter-of-factly.

By lately, he assumes Shiki means almost four days ago when they last saw each other while at Eri's. Perhaps the circles under his eyes had become too noticeable.

He chuckles, “Wow, thanks.”

“I'm serious,” she states, indignant, “I was about to head over if I didn't hear from you. I was practically out the door–”

“You aren't at the station are you?” Neku quickly asks, guilt and panic suddenly welling in him.

“No,” Shiki assures him, “but I was about to. It seems like you've been holed up in your room for days. I get that you're working on the project and everything, but I'm just hoping it's because you want to. I know Eri can be a little pushy even with the best of intentions or without meaning to. And I don't want you to feel like you're being forced.”

Neku is kind of stunned, but then again, he has been pushing himself with manic energy.

“What? No, of course not,” Neku assures her.

“I guess... I guess I've just been struggling,” he admits, “But Eri has nothing to do with it. It's all me. She's been nothing but supportive.”

“Struggling? How so?”

“I don't know...”

He can't even come up with words to cover half of what he's experiencing. It is a loss of inspiration, but there seemed to be so many other factors he can't quiet coral them all into an explanation easily understood.

“I just lost inspiration. And I've been pushing myself to find it again, but I guess I've tired myself out.”

Shiki hums thoughtfully on the other end of the line, “You know, Neku. I believe they call that art block.” He can hear the laughter in her voice.

He laughs along with her, “You don't say.”

“Yes,” she continues, “and I can assure you, anyone who has produced creatively, artist or not, has experienced something similar.”

“Really?” Neku asked.

“Really,” Shiki assures him.

It's such simple reassurance, but Shiki's sincerity made him believe it in a way he knew wouldn't be the same if he just assured himself with the same sentiment.

“Okay. Thank you.”

“You're welcome,” Shiki replies sweetly, “Feel better?”

“Yeah, I do,” he says as he yawns and rubs at his eyes, “especially since I slept for a bit.”

“Good. Maybe try to take a break from the project too. Might help to come back to it later with fresh eyes.”

“Oh!” Shiki exclaims, “If you're up for it, wanna meet up tomorrow, maybe? I know Beat and Rhyme are available.”

“Yeah, that sounds great,” he agrees.

“Perfect!” Shiki chirps, and then, "And Neku, if something is bothering you, you can always talk to me or any one of us, right?"

“Yeah, I know,” Neku says because he's supposed to, though not because he doubted it.

“ _'Yeah, I know,'_ ” Shiki repeats back in a lower, exaggerated tone meant to mock him.

“Ha, cute.”

“Thank you,” she says sweetly, not playing into his sarcasm. “Well, I'll let you get back to sleep or whatever you decide to do.”

“Will do,” he says, “Take care of yourself.”

“I should be saying that to you,” she says, “but you too. Bye.”

“Bye.”

She hangs up. But not long after he gets a text message.

> **Shiki:** Sorry about thos messages btw lol

He types back.

> **Neku:** Its alright.

He then lays in bed after. He wonders if going back to sleep is still an option, but the more he mulls he realizes that was probably not gonna happen. And he also realized he was hungry, having barely eaten anything since this morning.

But before he does, his mind lingers on an idea that he had while talking to Shiki.

In the end, he makes up his mind and scrolls back through his messages.

> **Neku:** Hey, I have an idea. Got a sec?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so while writing this I realized if I didn't split this chapter it would most likely be wildly disproportionate compared to the rest of the chapters, but the only place I could find to split it was here and I think that kind of makes it feel like all build up and no payoff. So sorry if this feels like a nothing chapter. 
> 
> I did want to post both parts of the intended chapter but that would take a while I think and I wanted to update so that people know I'm alive lmao
> 
> I want to have the next chapter up in the next couple weeks so here's hoping!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: I want to have the next chapter up in the next couple weeks 
> 
> me: *post chapter 3 months later*
> 
> Yay I'm alive!
> 
> so if you were unaware this fic is being made for purely self-indulgent reasons. I say this because this chapter is probably one of the peaks of that self-indulgence.

“Please be careful with those,” Neku warns as Beat picks up one of the cans out of the bag, “Make sure the opening is pointed away from you or anyone else.” 

“Aight, Neku, I got it, I got it,” Beat acknowledges him without looking, instead turning the can over in his hands and inspecting it. 

_Whatever happens, happens,_ Neku tells himself. 

There's a pat on his arm and he looks to see Rhyme smiling at him. 

“He'll be careful,” she assures him, “He knows if he's not he'll have to go back to school with a face full of red.” 

They both laugh. 

“So how's school?” he asks, “Find any friends to replace us with yet?” 

She giggles at his teasing. “No, of course not,” she says, “but some of my classmates and I have had good conversations. And school is good. I really enjoy my English class.” 

“That's good,” Neku tells her. 

And it is. He's glad she seems to be doing well and Beat hasn't said anything to contradict this.

But he still remembers how Beat had come to him and Shiki not long after they'd all started meeting up. He'd been almost sobbing, telling them something was wrong with Rhyme. How there were days when she'd keep to her room, refuse to eat, and avoid the things she used to enjoy doing. 

He'd asked her what was wrong, but all she said was she was unable to explain it and just didn't feel like doing those things sometimes. It had been at the point where even their parents were worried.

Both Neku and Shiki had assured him it would be all right and promised to keep an eye on her. He thinks Shiki had more success in cheering Rhyme up than he did, however, even though there was a time when he remembered he'd experienced similar feelings himself. 

But he hoped everything was as good with Rhyme as she made it seem. 

“How about Beat? He, uh, having any luck?” Neku asks. 

Rhyme glances over at her brother, who is still fidgeting with the paint cans, and gives a fond smile. 

“He's doing his best,” she tells him, “and I think mom and dad can tell that too.” 

It goes unspoken, but Neku can pick up on how big of a thing that is, especially considering what Beat had once told him. 

Then she adds, “I'm proud of him.” 

“We all are.” 

“Are Shiki and Eri almost here?” Rhyme then asks him. 

Neku looks back to his phone. There are no new messages, only the one from Shiki he'd received over fifteen minutes ago. 

“Yeah,” he says, “Shiki got off the train and met up with Eri, so they should be here any minute.” 

“Cool,” Rhyme says, “So, are you excited? Eri mentioned you'd been working very hard on your project.” 

Neku feels himself fidget, painfully aware as he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. 

“Well, yeah, I guess excited is one way to put it,” he answers, “but I was having trouble figuring out what to paint, so I figured I'd just go and maybe... maybe something will come to me.” 

Rhyme doesn't even get a chance to speak before Beat is giving him a friendly, but also rather hard, pat on the back. 

“Good on ya, Phones,” Beat gushes, “being extraneous is definitely inspirational.” 

Although the enthusiasm and compliment are appreciated, Neku winces a bit at the pain in his back. “Extraneous?” he questions.

“Beat I think you meant _spontaneous_ ,” Rhyme pipes up. 

“Oh, for real? Probably,” Beat admits, “y'know 'm not good with big words.” 

“And, uh, Neku? I think I busted your can, man,” his friend says, and Neku looks down to where Beat holds out the can, still intact, in one hand and in the other is the tip.

Rhyme peaks around from behind Neku. “Beat! You said you'd be careful.”

“I was!” 

“Guys, it's fine,” Neku interrupts, potentially extinguishing a sibling argument, “it's just the tip. It comes off sometimes. It's not broken.”

“Oh,” Rhyme exclaims. 

“Oh shit,” Beat exclaims and Neku hands him back the can, “Tha's actually pretty tight though, not gonna lie.” 

Neku can't help it and he finds himself laughing.

“What are you guys doing?” 

It's Shiki's voice that asks as she and Eri approach them. Rhyme grins and doesn't waste any time running towards them and wrapping her arms around Shiki.

“Beat thought he broke one of Neku's paint cans,” Rhyme chirps, breaking away from the hug. Next to Neku, Beat splutters in protest. 

Eri snaps her head toward Beat with raised eyebrows. “You didn't actually.” 

“'Course not!” 

“The tip just came off,” Neku explains. “So, are you guys ready to go?” he asks. 

His friends all give him their agreement and they head out.

  
  


The first thing Neku notices is the mural has faded.

The realization is more startling than it probably should be, mostly because the mural has been up for so long and Neku can't ever remember a time it looked so dim. And it isn't surprising to think Mr. H—CAT—would come back to touch it up, but considering how much wear and tear is visible, an uneasiness lingers in the back of Neku's thoughts. 

But he doesn't let himself dwell on it. He can't. 

“Impressive as ever,” he hears Shiki say. 

Neither she nor the others make a comment about the mural looking any different, so maybe he is just over-analyzing it. After all, nothing can stay the same forever. 

Beat parts from the group, saying he wants to check out the Wild Boar. Neku is tempted to walk into Cyco Records himself, but resists for the moment. 

Eri, Shiki and Rhyme are staring at the graffiti with him. But his mind is continuing to skip over memories and fragmented thoughts as he continues to gaze up at the street art. 

He remembers seeing the mural for the first time and the pull he'd always felt towards it afterwards. How he continued to be inspired by it and the rest of CAT's art and other media, and those feelings leading to the filled sketchbooks he now has shoved back underneath his bed. 

But he also remembers this is where he died, right here is where he first saw Joshua, and he doesn't even need to be reminded of what happened after how many times the memory has already played through his head before. 

It doesn't help that he still has the raw memory of Joshua abandoning their phone call over a week ago with only the verbal promise of a future response. And Neku doesn't have a lot of reason to believe him. 

“Find anything interesting. Neku?”

Neku looks away from the wall and Rhyme is approaching him, hands casually gripping the straps of her backpack. 

“Kind of,” he says. 

“You seemed really concentrated,” Rhyme told him. 

“Yeah, just thinking.” 

Rhyme hums in acknowledgment and looks down at the wall where it continues on a ways. “Are you still thinking about finding a place to put your art up?” 

Neku nods. “If I can find a place that is.” 

“I can help you look if you want to,” she says, bouncing on her heels. 

“Sure, I'd like that.” He gives her a fond smile that she returns as they start walking.

Even if Rhyme was the younger of the group and a little softer on the outside, Neku has found, much like Beat, their tastes are very similar. And he values her opinion. 

They don't stray too far. They're further down, close enough Shiki and Eri still in view, but far enough they begin finding blank spaces and faded to near non-existent graffiti. Rhyme would sometimes point out a piece that did something they liked or perhaps didn't. However, most of it was just simple tagging.

And Neku is reminded of how happy he is to have a chance to interact with Rhyme and get to know her better. He's glad he gets to see her smile and laugh. He's glad he gets to know that she doesn't like to wear her beanie at all times the way Beat does and her fondness for baggy sweaters. He's glad she's here. Neku can't imagine how they all would be without her, even if she has her own struggles. 

But then again who doesn't? 

“This is a good spot right,” Rhyme asks him when she stops.

She was right. It was more or less a blank spot in the vast amounts of artwork. Although the faded remains of something can be barely seen in the spot.

However, Neku feels some reservation in potentially putting up something over someone else's work, no matter how faded. But he didn't know if that would make any sense to Rhyme. 

He settles for a lame, “Yeah, seems like.” 

Rhyme either doesn't notice or decides not to call him out on his non-committal answer. Instead, she asks him, “Have you decided what you're gonna put up yet?” 

“Nah,” Neku says, and kicks at the ground, “I haven't decided if I'm gonna put up anything today.”

Rhyme tilts her head. “How come?” 

Neku just shrugs, hands now in the pockets of his shorts. “Dunno. Just not sure if I have anything worth putting up yet.” 

“That's understandable,” Rhyme says, and Neku is a bit surprised. “It can be daunting trying to create something you know will be worth your time, but also leave an impression.” 

Neku nods and Rhyme continues, “But I think it's important to find something you want to say as a way to find inspiration in your work. Like finding what inspired you in the first place and using that feeling to create something not only for others but for yourself. No matter how simple it may be.” 

Neku doesn't know what it is about Rhymes words, but it's after he hears them he has an idea. He knows what he's going to do. 

“Rhyme,” Neku says, “I need to get my paint. I think I have an idea.” 

“Right!” Rhyme exclaims, and she takes off back towards Shiki and Eri who have his bag. 

Neku watches her go for a second before turning back towards the wall. He reaches out and presses his palm against the cold stone but feels the warmth of possibilities like he hasn't felt in a long time, and smiles.

  
  


“What do you think?” 

Neku stands back. His hands, arms, and possibly his face, littered in paint smudges. 

He downs the rest of his Pokari Sweat Rhyme had given him from her backpack. None of his friends say anything for a moment and he shifts on his feet. 

“It's simpler than I was expecting, but–” 

“No, Neku,” Shiki says, an almost breathless quality to her voice, “it's amazing.” 

“I don't think I'd go that far...” Neku starts. 

“Nah Phones, she's right,” Beat interjects, “it's rad as hell.” 

“I agree,” Rhyme chimes in. 

Even Eri, who never seems to run out of enthusiasm, always bubbly Eri, appears awestruck as well. 

“I guess I did a good job then,” Neku teases. 

“Neku...” Eri then says, looking away from the wall and towards him. And Neku is a little taken aback by how serious her tone is. 

But when he meets her eyes, they light up and she squeals. 

“This is so great!” she exclaims and wraps her arms around the nearest person—which just so happens to be Shiki—and bounces up and down. 

Neku can't deny that seeing such a reaction assures him he'd done something right.

He looks back at the words he's made on the wall and, even if it's simple, he feels pride well up inside him. His technique and coloring has definitely developed since he'd first started. Although he can already feel how his muscles are going to ache tomorrow. 

“Well, nothing to do but let it finish drying and hope no one paints over it by tomorrow,” he says. 

“Oh don't be so pessimistic,” Eri chides, “I think others are more understanding than that.” 

“Yeah, it's almost dark,” Beat says, hand shading his eyes as he looks to where the sun is lower in the distance, “Rhyme an' me gotta bounce.” 

“And we have to catch the train,” Shiki reminds Eri.

They're all in agreement to leave and it's only a few minutes before they're all packed up. Although Neku is left with the realization that there's no way to get the paint off of him till he gets home. He needs to take a shower anyway. 

But he looks back one more time at what he's written on the Udagawa wall, an echo of affirmation. 

_Expand your world._

  
  


It only takes Eri a moment to throw out a quick line of forgetting something and taking off before her friends can follower her so she can make her way back towards Neku's mural.

She doesn't have time to compose the best shot possible, but she finds a decent angle where the sun hits the top of the wall. She finds it ethereal enough. 

Neku's art won't promote itself, after all.

  
  


There's something satisfying about cooking, and Sanae had come to that realization long ago. 

Coffee was his favorite. Although you could argue it wasn't, in fact, cooking. But the process of grinding the beans by hand, watching the grounds foam and bubble over the first splash of boiling water, and the slow drip down of the coffee was satisfying nonetheless. 

But he's had a little too much coffee lately, he sad to say. Not just that, but beans have begun to run low and being unsure (at least the way he's tethered now) whether there will be a need to stock up again.

However, he still has the time and ingredients to make his second favorite: pancakes. 

He casts a brief looks over his shoulder. 

Joshua is sitting just behind him, elbows on the counter, tapping away on his phone. His expression is neutral, the kind you can find on most teenagers that tells you they're staring at nothing. 

It actually surprised him that Joshua had returned to WildKat as one look at the headphones around his neck told Sanae everything he needed to know about how his attempted nudge went. But Joshua was never one to make things easy. 

After flipping the pancakes onto a plate, he turned off the griddle. Unfortunately he doesn't have any fruit around, but whipped cream is not in short supply. And neither is the cinnamon. 

Joshua still hasn't looked up from his phone. 

It feels so much more tangible, here as Sanae arranges pancakes and makes them look ornate for no other reason than he has the time, how useless he is. As much as it pains him to admit, he can't help Joshua. 

At one time, he could. He was probably the only one for a long time. But that ability had waned with time. Even now, with the other only right across from him, the space between them had never felt more gaping. 

But it's not as if he can blame the current state of their relationship solely on Joshua.

No, if Joshua was to get better, he needed someone else. Someone who could help him grow and nurture that note of change Sanae could feel buried in the song of Shibuya. 

Sanae sets the stack of pancakes in front of Joshua, the butter and whipped cream already melting and dripping around the sides. 

“Syrup?” he asks. 

It's then that Joshua looks up, first at the pancakes, regarding them almost suspiciously, and then to where Sanae is holding up the small pitcher of syrup. 

But the other ignores the question and asks, “Is this some kind of bribe?” 

Sanae decides to take that as a yes and pours the syrup over the pancakes. Neither of them break eye contact. 

“So what is the purpose of this?” Joshua then asks, setting his phone down and placing his chin in his hands. 

“Just looking for some honest feedback,” Sanae answered him, putting down the syrup. 

Joshua blinks down at the pancakes. There's a moment of hesitation, but he soon picks up the fork and takes a bite. 

The fact that Joshua doesn't criticize it and continues chewing is the only positive feedback Sanae expects to get, but he'll take it. 

Sanae had just begun on starting to clean up the dishes he'd dirtied while making the pancakes when Joshua speaks up. 

“Has the Higher Plane been in contact?” 

At that moment, Sanae isn't facing Joshua, but he can feel the other's stare on his back.  
“No,” he answers, tone neutral. 

When he turns around, Joshua has a considerate look on his face, before he shrugs and hums, “Hmm. Shame.” He doesn't even try to hide the distaste in his voice. 

It's not technically a lie. The Higher Plane maybe haven't been in direct contact, but since being allowed back at his cafe he'd been tasked with completing his secret reports. They are the reason that, when Joshua departs, he'll return to the stack of papers he has tucked away in the back. 

The Higher Plane won't summon him until that task is complete. And it will be only him they summon. He hasn't told Joshua that. 

It's not a decision he'd made lightly. But he can't risk Joshua attempting to prevent the Higher Planes judgement of him whatever it may be. The kid is in enough hot water as it is.

Instead, before that time comes, he can try to push Joshua in a different direction. 

“But they might if you continue to neglect your responsibilities,” Sanae says. 

And in a way it's true. Joshua's skill at running the Game had never been called into question, unlike his attitude. And until the Long Game, the Higher Plane's consensus was that, despite his unwelcome nature, he was adept at prioritizing Shibuya's well-being over his own personal issues. However, it was becoming clearer that most of the Games' past smoothness should be credited to Kitaniji. A sentiment Sanae doesn't completely disagree with. 

“Yes...” Joshua takes another bite of the pancake, chews it, then swallows, “because the Game is so interesting at the moment,” he drawls. 

Sanae rubs the back of his neck and pretends to be picking something from underneath his fingernails with his free hand. “Well the fact is, Shibuya's still recovering.” 

It's an obvious statement, one he shouldn't have to point out to Josh. The UG is still so unstable as it is, and its Composer dancing around, trying not to get caught up in the Music, is only slowing down the process. 

“And you avoiding her isn't gonna solve anything,” he finishes. 

Again, another half truth. Although Joshua being absent isn't going to make the UG as fractured as it became during the Long Game, it's still a strain despite the Higher Plane suspending the Game and other... influences. 

Even with Shibuya's reset, she won't thrive without regular maintenance. 

Or an active Conductor. 

Sanae looks back up to meet Joshua's eyes again. The other is now ignoring the pancakes and glaring at him. With it comes a crackle of tension. 

He tries to soothe it. “I'm not trying to start a fight with you, J–” 

“Then stop talking.” 

Joshua's voice is cold and direct in that way that Sanae knows there is no continuing with this topic of conversation. 

“... alright,” he concedes. 

He takes the hand towel he forgot was on his shoulder and begins wiping down the counter. 

An uneasy silence lingers between them. They've been having far too many of those lately. 

He half expects Joshua's visit to end there, for Joshua to get up and walk out the door. But Joshua continues to sit there, gaze lingering on the countertop. 

Then after a few moments, Joshua speaks up, voice now soft, “... Tell them I'll get back to it soon.” 

It's a meek olive branch extended to him and Sanae wishes he could leave it at that. 

“Soon is a little vague,” he points out, “besides, I think they'd be more interested in how the UG is being influenced from the RG.” 

Joshua looks at him, head tilted slightly to the side, brows furrowed in confusion. 

He really doesn't seem to know, and Sanae realizes Josh isn't just ignoring the Music of Shibuya, but has cut himself off from it. 

The other is waiting for an explanation, but Sanae believes more in the show don't tell. 

He pulls out his phone, and it takes him only a few button taps before his Twitter is open. 

Sanae had made the account a while ago to promote CAT. (He'd also thought about making one for WildKat but never put in the time to.) Of course it hasn't been very active as of late, his most recent posts promoting his latest album and a photo of his mural in Udagawa when he'd revamped it last. And he never retweeted other posts until recently.

Now Shiki Misaki was someone he knew could be capable of amazing feats. Sanae had known there was potential in her from the first moment he'd met her as he had with Neku. So out of true curiosity he'd found her and her friend's fashion account showcasing their efforts and followed it. 

And it was through the retweet from their account that he'd found the photo of the mural. 

Although he never would have pegged Phones as a social media type. And the fact that one  
of the few followers on his account was the young lady gives him some insight as to how it even happened. 

Nevertheless, he was impressed and retweeted the photo. 

So it doesn't take him long to find the page and when he does, he shows it to Josh, who has been uncharacteristically silent and waiting. 

“The kid's got talent,” is all he says. 

Joshua stares. Sanae notices his fingers twitch. 

And without a word Joshua gets up. He doesn't even put on the headphones before he leaves, but still dramatic as ever. 

Sanae sighs and picks up the half-eaten plate of pancakes, knowing it's time to get back to work as soon as he finishes cleaning. 

He may not be able to help Joshua anymore, but he can at least point him toward someone else who might be able to.

  
  


Joshua knows he'll curse himself later for playing right into Sanae's hands yet again, but the thought of his proxy's influence gaining any more interest with the Higher Plane wasn't one that sat well with him.  
Perhaps it is time for him to stop trying to cut himself off from Shibuya's Music. However, that decision also creates an uneasy feeling that settles inside him. There is no winning. 

But he'll have to decide later. Right now, he's on a mission of his own. He wants to see his dear proxy's work with his own eyes and not just through a screen.

Even if he didn't already know where it was located, it wouldn't have been hard to find. As with Neku Sakuraba himself, the chords it gave out were among the loudest and clearest in all of Shibuya. 

He touches down in Udagawa and already hates being here. 

Sanae's mural still stands, more faded than Joshua remembers it being, meaning the other really hasn't left the cafe at all, not even when Joshua has left. He doesn't linger near it long. Instead, he follows the pull from further down the wall. 

After cutting himself off from the Music for as long as he did, it's almost overwhelming in an area where so many melodies are converging. He nearly reaches for the headphones around his neck just on impulse, but soon adjusts. 

When he reaches the mural it looks exactly as it did in the tweet Sanae showed him, but this close the vibe rolling off of it is nearly tangible. 

Although he'd been in such a rush to see it he didn't really know what he was supposed to do now. 

Joshua thinks about attempting to neutralize it. It wouldn't be an easy task, but it might be for the best. It was only a mere half-thought, but that is why he stretched his hand out to press flat against the paint covered stone wall. 

It's startling the way the chords burst into even more crystal clarity and swell as the overwhelming feeling of unrestrained creativity and passion role off the mural in waves. And even buried underneath all the layers, a message rings out, laced in each chord. 

_Expand your world_ , it echoes with a pull of inspiration, the urgency of a lesson learned first-hand, and a countless amount of other sensations he can barely comprehend. 

Joshua comes back to himself, slower and more dazed than he'd like to admit. But when he does, he snatches his hand away from the wall as if it had burned him. 

He shouldn't have come here.

  
  


Joshua doesn't go back to WildKat. He doesn't think he has the strength to face Sanae with his comments and his questions and his _knowing_. At least if he doesn't see him he can pretend he's keeping secrets. 

The Dead God's Pad is empty. Joshua barely used the room, it was mainly for the meetings of Reapers during a Game. And since there were no Games now, he'd had it closed off. He had a feeling the Reapers preferred their nights on the town anyway. And if not, oh well. 

He was hoping the sounds of the Pad would be able to keep him tethered. The low music of the jukebox, the hum of the aquarium filter and the soft trickle of water emanating from beneath the glass floor. He even tracked his eyes along with the school of fish beneath his feet. But none of it helps. 

He tried latching onto anything to keep himself in the moment, but nothing would ground him for long, and his mind would seep into nothingness. It was as if his very being would detach from his body and float away.

It was a feeling of altogether restlessness and yet being completely devoid of energy, and Joshua chose to just stretch himself across the couch against the wall. 

At first Joshua thought it was imprinting. His proxy had the power and certainly had the influence. And although there was always a sort of imprinting at work with art, what he'd felt wasn't anything like that.

No, it was simply the fact that the burst of vibrancy he'd experienced has thrown into sharp contrast how much Joshua was lacking. 

It reminded him of how new and exhilarating Shibuya used to seem to him, which felt like a lifetime ago. Yet he hadn't been able to enjoy it. Or many things anymore. 

When had he become so apathetic, so empty? 

The thought makes panic swell inside him and he can't really let himself think about what he's doing.  
He pulls out his phone from his pocket, but once he flicks it open, he hesitates. 

_Neku, I'll text you._

Joshua bites his lip and lets out a shaky sigh. He shouldn't be doing this, he knows, but at the moment he ignores all logic. 

He lingers on the message he'd sent to Neku before contemplating his message.

> **Joshua:** You never told me you did such good work partner.

He feels like he's conjuring a different person while typing the message, but he sends it. He knows he should probably feel more worried, but in sending it, an eerie calm settles over him. Not relief, more resignation.

Joshua's not expecting a response. He doesn't need one. It's also late, so that's why it's so surprising when his phone vibrates against his chest.

> **Neku:** what?

Joshua almost laughs, mostly out of bewilderment that his proxy has actually responded, and he decides to continue playing along.

> **Joshua:** Your art silly. Sanae thinks so too.

After a few minutes he then adds–

> **Joshua:** I don't know why you're so hesitant. 
> 
> **Neku:** oh. thanks i guess 
> 
> **Neku:** wait have you been fucking spying on me??

_No, I felt it._ Joshua smiles despite himself.

> **Joshua:** It was just a hunch. 
> 
> **Joshua:** Well, I guess it's not anymore.

Again, Joshua feels himself falling back into that same old persona—confident and snarky. It's so easy to do, even though he's not sure he has the energy to keep it up for long. 

But it always works on Neku.

> **Neku:** y'know i always forget how infuriating you are 
> 
> **Joshua:** Only for you, dear.

There's no immediate response and Joshua waits a few minutes for the answering notification, but it feels almost like hours. The pause may be awkward for another test but he sends it anyway.

> **Joshua:** So how's school Neku? How about your friends? Is everything going well?

The text reeks of desperation, but Neku's response this time is fast.

> **Neku:** fine

Joshua snorts and rolls his eyes. 

> **Joshua:** Very informative. 
> 
> **Neku:** i doubt you really just texted me to compliment my art and ask me how my life is 
> 
> **Joshua:** True. I did because you asked me to. 
> 
> **Neku:** i would have preferred to talk in person 
> 
> **Joshua:** Sorry to disappoint, but I believe I mentioned I am currently unavailable

Then Neku sends another text and Joshua reads it, a sinking feeling in his stomach.

> **Neku:** okay, but do you not realize how fucking weird this is?

He just stares at it, the sinking sensation now firmly settled and is aware of how stiff his body is.

Then another text comes through, this time even longer.

> **Neku:** you say you're unavailable. but you call me out of nowhere and you hang up just as quickly. and now you're texting me like everything is normal as if you didn't put me through 3 weeks of hell and then just disappear without a word. I just don't understand whats going through your head

He reads the message. He reads it again. It really is unacceptable how tone is nonexistent through text message.

And Joshua feels a wave of weariness fall over him and his fingers move by themselves.

> **Joshua:** I don't think I understand either. 
> 
> **Neku:** what?

Although Joshua had sent the text, he recoils at his proxy's concern. Instead, he gets irritated.

> **Joshua:** You know Neku, I wish you would stop beating around the bush and just say what it is you want to say. 
> 
> **Neku:** what are you talking about?

_Always asking questions, but never quite the right ones it seems_ , Joshua thinks to himself, somewhat bitterly.

> **Joshua:** Really? You didn't seem to have a problem expressing yourself before. 
> 
> **Neku:** you sound like you're trying to pick a fight. but whatever 
> 
> **Neku:** so tell me, why did I get to remember?

Joshua admits Neku's directness levels his smugness down a peg. Perhaps his proxy is not always as dim as he appears to be.

However, his dilemma now appears to him in sharp focus. 

But, it doesn't matter anymore, does it? Joshua has already gone back on his original decision to not interact with his proxy and been avoiding his duties as Composer and the Higher plan hasn't lifted a finger. What's one more strike against him? What does he care?

> **Joshua:** Hmm... well, I'll try to put it into simple terms you can understand. 
> 
> **Joshua:** If you weren't aware, your soul went through quite the ordeal while in the UG, but still managed to stabilize itself. Even more so when you regained your entry fee after the first week. 
> 
> **Joshua:** Removing crucial memories made during those weeks could have caused a regression and by extension, destabilization of your soul once you returned to the RG. And we wouldn't want that would we? 
> 
> **Neku:** you mean removing them again

Despite being a text, the tone of that comment definitely comes through.

> **Neku:** and i can't believe thats all there is to it since you sound like you were considering it 
> 
> **Neku:** and why only me? what about my friends?

Well that's all the information Joshua will give. His opinion in the matter is of no importance. But he resents the suspicion since it was partially true and when he'd relayed it to the Higher Plane, they'd deemed it acceptable. 

> **Joshua:** I suppose nothing would seem that simple, but here we are. And your friends were under no risk with a missing memory or two. Especially since my little secret is one I can't have too many knowing about. 
> 
> **Joshua:** But I assure you I acted on the best possible outcome for everyone involved. But if you think I'm lying, I can't do anything about that.

He's expecting more text coming to demand more information, but it doesn't come.

> **Neku:** no. 
> 
> **Neku:** you've lied about a lot of things, but i think you're right even if i don't like it

Joshua's stomach twists a bit when he reads it as a pause lingers before Neku's other messages come in.

> **Neku:** without my memories of the game, about you, i don't know if i would have changed 
> 
> **Neku:** besides you've changed too

There's a bubbling of emotion, a tightness in his chest as he reads the text, that Joshua struggles to tap down.

_Good to see you haven't changed all that much_

_You've changed too_

Had he? Had he really?

> I'm surprised you think that after everything I've done —

He stops, deletes the last bit and tries again.

> **Joshua:** I'm surprised you think that after everything that's happened.

Joshua sighs, feels himself sink deeper into the interior of the couch. He lets the hand clutching his phone fall over the side. This whole situation is starting to feel unnatural, surreal.

His phone then notifies him of another text. He stares up at the ceiling of the Dead God's Pad, his senses zeroing back on the sounds of the music and the water beneath him in an attempt to distract himself from the inevitable. He soon lifts the phone back up to his face when he hears another notification come through.

> **Neku:** i probably wouldn't be texting you if i didn't 
> 
> **Neku:** and i trust you.

Joshua stares at the words on the screen. He reads them over and over again.

_I trust you._

_I trust you._

_I trust you._

_I can't forgive you but I trust you._

Joshua feels his body start to curl into itself, his phone snapping closed as it falls and clatters against the glass floor. 

This time he doesn't try to stop the emotions as they surface, and, alone, he cries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out you should not try to write a scene where a whole convo happens through text, especially if you stylize it :D
> 
> I can't promise a time when the next chapter will be out, but thank you for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

Neku wakes up to his alarm and a heavy body. 

He looks at his phone, which thankfully he'd plugged in before he'd passed out, and there's the small ache of deja vu when he looks at his notifications and there are no new text messages.

The boy sighs, rolls over, and struggles to persuade himself to get out of bed. 

He never received a response for his text, but he hadn't really expected one, anyway. He already considered it a miracle Joshua gave him a somewhat straight-forward answer without much of a fight. Although, he hadn't been able to ask all the questions he'd wanted to. Neku doubted he'd ever get a chance to. But he'd berate himself about that later because school was, unfortunately, waiting. 

He gets himself dressed and ready fairly quickly, eats a small breakfast of egg over rice, and is out the door not long after. 

The bus ride is uneventful. He has one of those moments where he misses old headphones as he uses the replacements that had cost him thirty-five hundred yen. But even as he plays music through them, his thoughts drift back to last nights events. 

If it wasn't for the fact he could look back at the messages now, he might have believed it was only a figment of his imagination. 

First, it had been out of nowhere (again.) and too late on a school night for Neku to even be up. However, he had been and, seeing the text, it had only partly registered with him that this was Joshua. But being half-awake passed the a.m. fucked up your common sense. 

And Neku feels his exhaustion had shown in the texts with his short answers and just a stream of unfiltered comments, it surprised him Joshua hadn't called him out on it. 

Although even now he wasn't sure how to feel and that was beyond frustrating. Now that he's no longer as physically tired, the whole situation just makes him more emotionally tired. At one point the conversation had seemed to be progressing, but then Joshua had stopped responding and the opportunity had ended. 

But Joshua had also seemed sort of... off too. In fact, this time and the last they'd spoken were so abrupt on Joshua's end and it was just strange. 

The more Neku thinks about it, a more obvious answer emerges, but not one he can wrap his head around. It feels weird, thinking of Joshua as vulnerable. 

But what also irked him about their conversation was how Joshua had approached him. About his art.

Neku's not as upset as he probably should have been. Or as much as Shiki thought he would be. 

He'd never checked the Twitter Eri had set up for him passed the day she'd first made it for him. He couldn't bring himself to advertise on it. It was hard enough to share his art with his friends much less try to promote it to faceless individuals. The compliments he got on painting Beat's skateboard were different, it was just word of mouth. But social media really wasn't for him, he thought. 

It wasn't until he started receiving more notifications than usual on his phone and an eventual call from Shiki that he was informed of the details. 

He admits it is quite jarring knowing quite a few people have seen and even liked his work, however, he still had a strange feeling. 

(He also changed the password after finding out.) 

Because it wasn't just that Eri had retweeted the post she'd made onto her and Shiki's joined account trying to gain it some traction, but that the official CAT Twitter had retweeted it from them and nearly overnight it had reached so many. 

Now he was getting messages praising his work and asking about his affiliation with CAT and Neku found it so overwhelming he didn't know how to respond. And it was because _he_ was unsure of his own affiliation to CAT. Or, as he knew him, Mr. H. 

And he never doubted Mr. H was CAT. Even if it had been Joshua who told him. Neku was sure. He could just... feel it. 

Neku falls so deep in thought he nearly misses his stop. Man, he really was out of it today, but he makes it on time to class without incident. 

And class is just as uneventful as the bus ride there, but it was particularly hellish the last couple of days because Neku felt like he was being watched every time he thought about pulling out his sketchbook. 

Realistically, he knows that's bullshit and maybe even a bit egotistical as it was only one tweet and no one had even confronted him about it let alone his own classmates. So the sketchbook remains buried in his bag. 

He settles for doodling on the side of his paper instead.

  
  


Neku doesn't know why he thought he could do it. 

He'd had the idea when his mind was wandering during class, and it hadn't left him since. So when class ended for the day, Neku took an alternate route. 

He bypasses Towa Records, knowing if he goes in, it will only just be an excuse. His palms start sweating as he makes his way through the Underpass. He really feels like a walking ball of nerves and anxiety. 

Neku makes it to the edge of Miyashita Park, near the beginning of Cat Street. WildKat peaks out just in the distance. 

He can't do it. 

He turns around and walks away.

  
  


Of course, Neku doesn't tell his friends about his failed plans (and even if he could he wouldn't) and just tries to push it out of his mind. 

Perhaps he should learn from last time and move on from the situation before he makes himself anymore upset. 

He makes plans to meet up with Beat and Rhyme the next day. He'd asked Shiki and Eri to tag along too, but Shiki had cram school to attend that day and Eri politely declined, saying she was busy. 

(In retrospect, he hoped this had nothing to do with him or what happened with the mural and Twitter. He'll have to talk to her later.) 

They decided to meet at Ramen Don. Neku arrives a little later than his friends and they were the only ones there, so he it's easy to spot Beat ordering and Rhyme already sitting at a booth. She waves to him.   
He waves back and then walks over to Beat. Ken Doi greets him and he responds in kind before him and Beat step off to the side. 

“You order already?” he asked. 

“Only for Rhyme,” Beat admits.

“But what about you?” 

“Haven't decided yet, man.” Beat then shifts on his feet from side to side, hands in the pockets of his shorts. “lotta options,” he adds. 

“You can always order more than one thing,” Neku reminds me. 

“Money's kinda tight right now,” is his friend's response. 

Neku's mouth twists at that. He then digs into his back pockets until he grasps his wallet.   
“How much did you have?” 

Beat seems to consider this and then counts on his fingers. “I had sixteen hundred yen, but now 'm down to... nine twenty.” 

Neku takes out two thousand yen bills and hands them to his friend. “Here's two thousand,” he says, “you can keep it if you order for me.” 

“For sure man. Whaddya want?” 

“Just the Shoyu.” 

Neku was just about to turn and head over to the table, but a hand on his arm stops him. It's Beat, giving him a more serious look than usual. He then leans in a bit and speaks in a lower voice. 

“I think Rhyme's been havin' one of those days today, ya know?” 

It takes him a second, but soon Neku nods in understanding, and starts making his way over to where Rhyme is sitting. 

After what Beat had told him, he tries to take a good look at Rhyme. Outwardly, there doesn't seem to be anything off about her and she's still just staring out the window as he slides into the booth across from her. 

She doesn't acknowledge his presence and continues to stare. However, it's not the listless daydreaming stare. It's wide-eyed and anxious, and her lips are pulled so thin they're pale, almost white. She looks scared.

And Neku follows her gaze outside. He doesn't know what he expected to see out the window that would irk her so much, but it's not a man in a semi-casual suit, yelling angrily into a cell phone. The man is far away enough that he can't make out the words being said, but his tone comes through clear enough. 

Neku looks back at Rhyme, who still hasn't taken her eyes off him. 

“Rhyme?” 

She doesn't move. 

“Hey. Rhyme?” he tries, a little louder. 

And this time, Rhyme jumps, her eyes still wide when they turn to him. She then blinks and her gaze softens. 

He searches her face. “Are you okay?” 

She nods immediately, and says, “Yeah, I'm okay,” just as quickly, but Neku notices as she reaches for her necklace, clutches the small bell charm and begins running her thumb over it. A self-soothing gesture, Neku knew. 

“Did you, uh.... know that guy?” he asks her. 

Rhyme shakes her head. Her thumb continues to worry over the charm. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” 

Rhyme seems to hesitate for a second, but shakes her head again. “No,” she whispers, and then, “I'm sorry.” 

“There's nothing to be sorry about,” Neku assures her. 

“Okay,” she says and gives him a small smile. He tries his best to return it, but his thoughts are all over the place. 

But Beat soon arrives at the table and their hangout continues normally after that. Neku doesn't bring up his concerns as he doesn't want to make Rhyme uncomfortable. Plus she soon let go of her charm and was laughing along with Beat's jokes. He figures for now everything is all right. 

He only barely finishes his Shoyu and Rhyme her Miso, while Beat downed his Tonkotsu and one and a half bowls of Miso. 

Neku lets him keep the change.

  
  


Neku decides to text Beat later that night. He figures that's the quickest and easiest approach to bringing up the topic. He could also just let it go, but that doesn't feel like a real option.

> **Neku:** Hey

Beat doesn't answer back immediately. That's fine. Neku is busying himself with homework anyway, but soon he hears his phone notification go off.

> **Beat:** hey man whas up? 
> 
> **Neku:** I know you said rhyme was having a tough time but did you know that guy that was yelling on the phone outside Ramen Don? 
> 
> **Beat:** dunno. she didn't say anythin about it. why u ask? 
> 
> **Neku:** idk she just seemed really shaken up today
> 
> **Beat:** yeah.... its probs the nightmares again

The 'again' is the key indicator here that Neku gets exactly what his friend is referring too because he's been there. They've all been there.

> **Neku:** oh... that's shitty 
> 
> **Beat:** she hasn't been sleepin good. comes into my room lately at nite and i think its been rubbin off on me too 
> 
> **Neku:** i'm sorry man. take care of yourselves 
> 
> **Beat:** always man. gotta get to bed soon before the rents start complainin
> 
> **Neku:** alright. good night 
> 
> **Beat:** nite

  
  


Neku doesn't want to make a big deal of it, but there's something about it that nags at him. He knows reoccurring nightmares aren't that unusual. He's had his fair share of them after all. 

But it bothers him enough that he's not in the best mood by the end of the next day, barely focusing on his homework. And it's then that he gets a text from Eri.

> **Eri:** Are you able to meet me at Sunshine?

Neku reads it. He gives a brief glance towards his homework and makes a decision.

> **Neku:** which one? 
> 
> **Eri:** Across from Hachiko 
> 
> **Neku:** be there in a second

Neku then checks the battery life on his phone, which isn't the best, but should get him through a couple of hours until he makes it back home. He contemplates taking his headphones, but decides not to and heads out the door.

It doesn't take him long. There are quite a few people out near Hachiko, but it's still very early in the evening, so Neku isn't surprised. 

He's headed towards Sunshine, but then he spots Eri sitting on one of the benches surrounding Hachiko. She has a soda in one hand and a paper bag rested next to her. 

“I thought you wanted to meet at Sunshine?” he asks as he approaches her. 

Eri finished a sip of her drink before answering. “That was the plan, but it started getting a bit too crowded in there,” she explains and pat the seat next to her and he sits down. 

When he does, she passes him the paper bag. “I got you nuggets if you want them.” 

“Thanks,” he says, and he means it, as he takes the bag. 

And for a moment there is silence between them as they watch people go by in front of them. 

(Sometimes he wonders if there are Players here, running right in front of him that he can't see, frantic to find a partner or fighting for their lives. 

He wonders. He can't dwell on it.) 

“So...” he starts after finishing the nuggets and throwing away the trash, “why d'you call me out here? It's not another project is it?” he jokes. 

Eri smiles around the straw in her mouth. “No, not this time,” she says. 

“Oh okay,” Neku snorts. 

“I thought hanging out might be a make-up for being unavailable yesterday, but I also was wondering if you'd noticed anything going on with Shiki. Or if it's just me.” 

_Shiki?_ Neku wants to say no, that she seemed fine, but he hasn't really talked to her much as of late. He just figured she was busy with school like she told him. But he admits he's not always the most emotionally aware person. 

“Why? Is school getting to her?” is all Neku can think to ask. 

“I'm not sure,” Eri admits, “but it just... seems like something more is up.” 

Eri really seems to believe it, and if anyone would know it would be Eri. 

“How so?” 

She sighs, looking down at her now empty paper cup, “I just have a feeling, and it reminds me of... of when we had that one fight.” 

A chill snakes down Neku's spine because there's no doubt what fight Eri is talking about. 

“And I don't know if I'm just overthinking, or just need to give her time,” Eri goes on, “and I'm worried, and we have commissions that I wouldn't dream of doing without her–” 

It's not that Neku tunes out Eri confiding in him, but it's near the latter half of her concerns that his phone rings. And he just takes it out to check the caller ID, but when he sees it his heart races. 

It's the number he recognizes as Joshua's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another sort of in-between chapter since im planning to have the next one be rather long ;) 
> 
> comments and kudos always appreciated and thank you for reading <3


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